


Rules of Engagement

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Episode Related: Switchman, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 03:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Mother of all First Time stories. </p>
            </blockquote>





	Rules of Engagement

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: This one's for Marion, for endless discussions and because she did the impossible and used the power of the word to cure me from my Writer's Block (no, she didn't hit me with a book  ), and for Nikita, just because. ;) 
> 
> This is set after the pilot episode and just before the opening scene of 'Siege', and yes, there are some explanations that go along with this whole idea, but since they would spoil the point of the story to a certain extend, I decided to put them at the end. 
> 
> Summary: The Mother of all First Time stories. 
> 
> Warnings: No sap. No claiming. No years of lusting. Men *can* fuck without declaring their undying love. (Which reminds me - a bit of bad language was used... )

## Rules of Engagement

by Sammy

Author's webpage: <http://members.tripod.com/~LittleSammy/index.htm>

Author's disclaimer: Not mine. Just played with them. Put them back unharmed, but relaxed. ;)

* * *

Rules of Engagement  
by Sammy 

"Hi." 

The faintly familiar voice was quiet, very matter-of-fact, and it took Blair Sandburg a moment to come up with the right face that went with it. Then his eyebrows shot up as he remembered the man he had met a few days ago. 

Weird. Somehow Sandburg had expected he'd have to leave at least a dozen nag messages on James Ellison's answering machine before he'd hear from the cop again. 

"Hi, Ellison. What's up?" He tried to carry the phone over to the couch to get back to his movie and had to wrestle with the cord that played house cat and wrapped around his ankle on the way. "Whoof!" 

"Well, I was wondering... What are you _doing_ over there?!" 

"Tripping over my phone cord." Blair grinned as he finally managed to sit down on the couch comfortably. "What's the next question? 'What are you wearing?'" 

"Are you nude, or do I hear those silk boxers rustling?" 

"Kinky, Ellison." Blair drew up his legs underneath him and grabbed the remote control to turn off the sound for a moment. 

"Not really. I just like the feel." The words made Sandburg stop in the middle of leaning back, and he stared at the phone in his hands, blinking, eyebrows rising almost to his hairline. Then Ellison chuckled quietly. "Gotcha there. So, you wanna come over and have dinner?" 

Now that was another surprise. It wasn't what he would have expected after the let's-keep-this-professional lecture he had received from the detective. "Uhm... yeah. What's the occasion?" 

Ellison didn't answer right away, and while Blair waited for him to continue, all kinds of paranoid thoughts had time to unfold in his brain. His mind did that to him sometimes - taking a perfectly normal situation and wrapping it into a worst case scenario. It wasn't bad enough to cause panic attacks, and he had learned to deal with it a long time ago, but thinking in terms of Murphy's Law every now and then was... disconcerting. It threw him off track and distracted him. 

Like right now, when he considered several possible developments, which all essentially boiled down to one conclusion - James Ellison had reconsidered their arrangement. James Ellison really didn't need a partner. James Ellison sure as hell didn't need some big-eyed grad student snooping around in his life. 

Then he heard the cop clear his throat, and he almost saw the shrug that accompanied the words. "Just sit, and eat, y'know. Talk a bit." 

"Talk is good." Sweet Jesus. There he was, giving a perfect example of the average communication skills of the American male. Closing his eyes, Blair raised his hand and slowly smacked his forehead a few times. "I mean, sure, sounds good. Want me to bring anything?" 

"No, not really. Just a healthy appetite." 

This time Blair had a very vivid picture of the smile that went along with the words, which was slightly irritating. Obviously he remembered the smile much better than the usual - read: grumpy - face of Detective James J. Ellison. 

"That I can do." he replied nevertheless, and Blair found himself grinning again when Jim told him to show up at eight sharp. Ooh. Bossy. "Aye, sir! Oh, hey, wait - you gotta give me your address, man." 

"No, I don't, smart guy. I'll just send two guys who'll cuff you up, blindfold you and take you to my secret hideout." 

"Harr-dee harr-harr. Very funny." 

"Oh, it can be." There was a slight pause at the other end of the line, and Blair waited for another snazzy remark, but Ellison sobered and went back to being practical instead. "852 Prospect. Don't be late." 

"You got it." 

* * *

Three hours later the not-so-young anthropology student stood in front of apartment 307, plucked at his clothes, adjusted his backpack - again \- and wondered if two showers had been enough. Then he took a deep breath. 

Okay, he looked good, he was prepared, and he was just about to meet the man who was nothing less than his research come to life. No reason to be nervous, right? Sandburg groaned. 

_Of course_ he was nervous, because he didn't know what to expect tonight, and because this time he'd had too much time to think about it and too many thoughts running around in his head, and that usually meant that he was worth shit when it came to improvising. He shook his head to clear it and get his wayward mind to slow down. 

Finally Blair raised his hand to knock, and to his surprise the door already opened before he could complete the motion. And for a second he stared. Just _stared_ at Jim Ellison, with his eyes going wide and his mouth slightly open and his heart beating away a mile a minute, because _dammit_ that man looked good. 

He wore casual clothes, faded blue jeans and a simple dark blue t- shirt, but still Blair couldn't help thinking that Ellison was dressed to kill, because his jeans looked so worn out and soft to the touch, and that shirt was so tight it made his nipples show, and shit, that was a thought he shouldn't even think about, right? Eventually Blair had to tear his eyes away because it was a freaking dangerous territory he had just stumbled upon, and he wasn't sure he really wanted to go there tonight. Suddenly he was glad that he had decided to tuck his own shirt into his jeans and pull his hair back into a ponytail, opting for a slightly more professional look. 

Then Ellison smiled, and a dozen crinkles showed up around his brilliant blue eyes instantly. The smile was warm and affectionate, and it had an amazing effect on Blair Sandburg. It was like the sun deciding to come out from behind the clouds, bathing him in warmth. It felt darn good to be smiled at that way. 

"Hi." he said, and to his utter surprise his voice was cooperating. "See, I'm not late." 

"Good boy." Ellison smiled, and just when Blair thought he was about ready to do something embarrassing, the cop took a step to the side and made a small inviting gesture. "Come on in." 

"Thanks." Blair murmured, and even as he went inside, he couldn't quite avoid running his eyes over the big man's chest because that shirt was so fucking tight he just _had_ to wonder how it was possible to breathe in that. 

Then the door closed behind him, he was inside, and as he let his gaze sweep through the room, he said the first thing that popped into his mind. "Wow." He turned and found the cop watching him from the kitchen area, leaning against one of the pillars, arms crossed in front of his chest. "Great place, man." 

"Yeah." There was that smile again before Ellison went for the fridge. "You want a beer?" 

"Sure." Sandburg took off his backpack and dropped it beside the couch, but instead of sitting down, he took his time looking around, taking in what he could without being nosy. 

The loft was not the small, cramped apartment that he would have expected \- that would suit a cop - but spacious and open instead, bright, the furniture sparse, but carefully selected. His mind was working overtime as he mentally mapped the living room. Couch, table, TV set, and not much else, except for the fireplace to the left. Nothing that would distract Sentinel senses? Naw, more like simple personal preferences. 

Then Blair's eyes drifted towards the stairs that seemed to lead up to the bedroom, and suddenly all he wanted to do was snoop around up there, up close and personal, not caring about what Ellison might think about him prying, simply curious to find out more about the man who lived here. 

"Here." A hand tapped his arm, and he jumped in surprise, nearly knocking a bottle out of Jim's hand when he turned. 

"Oh, hey, thank you." He reached for the beer, but then reconsidered and shrugged out of his coat first, and when Ellison took it from him, their fingers brushed. And the smile was back. That was when Blair's paranoia caught up with him and he began to get nervous, because Jim Ellison was simply not the kind of man who smiled _that_ much, so it _had_ to be something bad, right? "Sooo... you said you wanted to talk?" 

"No rush, Sandburg. Dinner first", the cop shrugged and turned to put his guest's coat away. And then Blair almost shook his head because he didn't quite believe his eyes when the big, buff guy took out an apron and started to actually _make_ dinner, not just producing takeout. "Hope you like Chinese." 

"Yeah." Sandburg replied slowly, and this time the smile popped up on his own face. "I love Chinese." 

* * *

For a while Blair was content with leaning against the counter, enjoying his beer and watching Ellison while they chatted over prepping the food, but since he had never been good at not participating, he soon found himself lending a hand - chopping vegetables, pouring water and rummaging through the fridge to add his own suggestions. 

They worked good together - as far as cooking was concerned - and Blair was intrigued to learn that the stone-faced cop did indeed smile frequently when he wasn't worried out of his mind. Trading jokes and fooling around came easily and felt surprisingly natural with him. Maybe that was the reason Blair's tongue slipped, somewhere around the time Ellison asked him to go easy on the spices. "What, you don't like it hot?" 

Jim glared at him in mock horror. "Jesus, Sandburg - are we flirting here or discussing dinner?" 

Blair grinned and shook his head. "Naw, man. If I were flirting with you, my hands would be shaking, and I'd be sweating my brains out. Trust me, I'm no smooth flirt when I really go for someone." 

It took him a while to notice that there hadn't been an answer to that, and he looked up to find Jim staring at him, still busy slicing the chicken, but gazing at him sideways with his eyebrows raised in a silent question. Long glances that were speculative enough to make Blair feel pretty uncomfortable. "What?!" 

"Huh." Ellison gave a small shrug, then turned his full attention back to the chicken. "So you go for men, too?" 

Blair froze in mid-movement, hand poised over the bottle he had reached for, trying to wrap his mind around the question without freaking. Okay, it probably would have come up sooner or later anyway, but-- Christ Almighty, how the hell had it happened _now_?  >From soya bean sprouts to sexual preferences in a single bound... Blair's mind raced as he already considered a dozen ways of obfuscation, but then he met Jim's gaze again, and all he saw there was mild curiosity. No kick in the head if he confirmed the theory. And _hell_ , since they were going to be partners, he might as well get it over with now and be completely straight for a change - metaphorically speaking. 

So he said "yeah" after a while, hoping Ellison wouldn't notice his heart rate going straight through the roof, hoping he wouldn't see that Blair wasn't as cool about this as he wanted to be. "Yeah, I go for men." He gave a wry smile and leaned across the counter to grab his neglected and now much-needed beer, adding an "Occasionally." before he raised the bottle to his lips and took a big gulp. 

"Good." 

"Good?" 

"Yeah." Ellison replied while he put the chicken slices into the wok, then wiped his hands before he took his own beer. "So we have at least one thing in common." He smiled and raised his bottle as if to toast Blair. "Occasionally." 

Blair blinked and watched him down the beer, watched him swallow the cold liquid slowly, and for Pete's sake, he didn't have an answer to that. So he kept his mouth shut for a change, and only when Jim put down the empty bottle and asked him to pass the spiced oil, he came out of it, shaking his head. "Yeah. Sure." 

* * *

"Man, what a view." Blair sighed and turned his head into the wind, enjoying the cool, crisp air that hit his face and cleared his foggy head somewhat. Damn, he felt toasted. Too much good food. And way too much wine. 

"Yeah." The quiet voice made him look over his shoulder, and he smiled as he saw Jim come up behind him on the balcony. The taller man's voice was hushed as he continued, as if he didn't want to disturb the moment. "On clear days you can see right down to the south end of the bay." 

Raising his hand, he offered another beer, and Sandburg accepted it, strangely glad to leave rational thinking behind for a while. Propping his elbows up on the railing of the balcony, Jim settled down beside him, and for a while they just stood like that, staring out at the nightly Cascade, with just an occasional glance to the side from Blair. 

His thoughts still tumbled around the weird concept that they obviously shared more interests than they both would have expected - basketball, hiking, both of them Jags fans. And there were a dozen other things that made Sandburg see James Ellison in a light that differed from the silent, angry man he had met a few days ago. He read _Kerouac_ , for God's sake. 

Nursing his beer silently, Blair stared at the man beside him once in a while, and then suddenly he realized that they were both well on the way to get drunk, and they both felt good right now, and the silence between them was comfortable enough to ask. "So. Tell me why I'm here?" 

Jim sighed and turned, settling his lower back against the balcony railing comfortably while he crossed his arms in front of his chest. He cocked his head to the side and just watched the anthropologist for a few moments before he answered with a question of his own. "What do you think?" 

Blair shook his head slowly, lowering his gaze to watch his thumbs smooth away the dampness that had gathered on the cold glass of the bottle in his hands. He had never liked this kind of mind games, and right now he really would have preferred a more precise answer because actually he *didn't* have the foggiest idea were Ellison was heading with this. Frowning, he tried to consider all possibilities, but the only answer that kept circling in his head was the one he didn't want to hear. "I think", he finally replied, "that maybe you had second thoughts about this. Me being your partner, I mean." 

"I did." Blair's head shot up at those words, his eyes wide and mouth already opening to protest, but Ellison raised a hand, signaling him to wait and let him finish before he disagreed. "And that's why we're gonna talk tonight. Convince me." 

"What?" 

"You heard me. Start all over again and explain it to me, and this time try it without the male bonding shit and Holy Grail stuff you pulled at the U. Tell me why I need a partner. Why I would need _you_ as a partner." 

Blair blinked slowly, going back to staring down at his own hands while he tried to clear his head enough for this kind of talk. He turned then, too, backing up and leaning against the wall so he could watch the Sentinel. Judge his reactions. "Basically", he began carefully, "you need someone who understands what you are and what you're going through." 

"And that would be you." 

"Yes." Blair nodded, all too aware of Jim's disconcertingly blue eyes on him, eyes that told him more clearly than words that this time he had to work pretty hard to make it believable. This time there would be no truck coming out of the blue to save his ass and grant him a second chance. Convince Jim, or lose him, right here on the spot. 

And obviously the cop was in the mood for having a healthy argument before he handed over his life to a long-haired grad student. "I could just track down the stuff you read." Ellison offered quietly. 

"With your patience?" The words were out of his mouth before his brain had any chance to interact, but Jim actually smiled at that, and so Blair continued, his hands moving fast now that he was back on familiar territory. "This isn't about an issue of Men's Health, Jim. Almost all of my resource material is totally out of print - and a lot of it has never really been _in_ print. 

"Besides - my knowledge comes bundled with the right ideas how to use it. Off the top of my head, I can come up with at least a dozen different things that will help you achieve better control over your senses. And in the long run, this part--" 

"Whoa, hold it right there, chief!" Jim cut him off, raising both hands in a dismissive gesture. "So far no one said anything about this being long-term." 

God, how he hated this feeling of running against walls. "Okay, then let's _start_ talking about it." he offered, working hard on staying calm. Yelling at Ellison now would only make _him_ feel better, not help to get anything accomplished here. "Fact is, you are a Sentinel. A man with a genetic pattern that produced not just one, but five hyperactive senses. It's very likely you'll have them until you're old and gray, and that means the zoning will not go away either." 

His words made Jim look at him again, and when their eyes met this time, he saw the barriers go up between them brick by brick, saw Ellison detach himself from the young man with each word pressed through clenched teeth. "I thought you wanted to help me control this." 

"And I will!" Blair moved, crossing the distance between them easily and blocking Ellison's way to keep him from going back inside. Jim stared down at him for a heartbeat, then slowly shook his head in a certain annoyed way, and it was this gesture that drove Blair crazy. Before he realized it, he found himself grasping Jim's upper arms hard, tempted to simply _shake_ reasoning into him, because James Ellison was someone who paid so much more attention to action than to words. "Jim, _listen_ to me. You can't get rid of the zoning, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. It's just part and parcel of being a Sentinel, and you have to accept that!" 

"Oh, great advice. Just live with it. And _how_ am I supposed to live like this?!" 

"Just like everyone else!" Blair didn't know when exactly they _had_ started shouting at each other, but now that he found himself yelling the words into Jim's face, he wasn't all that surprised, because for some weird reason he actually seemed to get through to the man, and Jim stopped fighting, stopped trying to shove him away, and went back to just glaring at him. Their closeness lost the worst of the angry intensity, and Blair sighed, releasing his tight grip. "Jim, think about what happens when you zone out. You concentrate on one sense, and the others get tuned down and blocked out. It happens to   
_everyone_. But you're a Sentinel, and that's why in your case the reaction is much more severe. It makes you actually lose touch with reality. What we'll have to work on is giving you enough control over your senses until you're no longer _oblivious_ to what's happening around you when you zone, just _distracted_ from it. That's what you want, right? Control?" 

Jim stared at him for a long time, still tense and tight, his jaw clenched and one muscle in his cheek jumping. Then, finally, he gave in all of a sudden. His body relaxed and he sighed, raising his hand to rub a spot on his forehead, right between his eyebrows. "I'd still prefer it to just go away." 

"Looks like this isn't going to be an option." Blair replied just as quietly, moving a bit closer to run his hand over Jim's arm and give a reassuring squeeze. "But I can make it work for you. If you trust me, I can give you control." 

The words made Jim look up and stare at him with narrowed eyes as he searched his face thoughtfully. "You think you're up to this?" The question threw Blair off-balance because for a second he didn't have the slightest idea what Jim was going for. "What do you mean?" 

Jim shrugged. "You told me that the Sentinel's partner used to be a warrior who had to look out for him. Watch his back when he lost touch with reality. If I buy this - if I let myself in on this, it will mean more than just a few tests and tricks we do. I'll have to trust you with my life, Blair. Do you think you're up to this?" 

He opened his mouth to say that of course he could do it, but then it really sank in what Jim had just asked of him, and as he understood he had to clench his hands into fists to keep them from shaking, keep himself from just grabbing his things and bolting before he was sucked into this sort of commitment. And then he realized that it was too late, that he was already there, and he couldn't run from this because Jim did indeed need him and because right now - all obfuscation aside - Blair _was_ the only one who could help him control his freaking senses. One hell of a responsibility. 

It must have shown on his face because the Sentinel suddenly smiled, not the radiant, warm smile Blair had seen before, but one that was so startlingly intense it made his skin crawl. He opened his mouth, but his lips refused to form words, and when Jim leaned into him, over him, his sheer presence made Blair back up instinctively until he felt the balcony railing press against his waist. And still Jim moved closer, one of his hands sneaking up to catch a strand of Blair's hair that had escaped the tie. 

Swallowing hard, he watched Jim stare at it absentmindedly while he slowly rubbed it between his fingertips, and that tiny gesture was so simple and yet so fucking intimate, it made him hard and horny and ready to go down on his knees in a heartbeat. He took a shaky breath, and Jim's eyes dropped to his lips, and the man was watching his _mouth_ , for God's sake, while he was still playing with his hair. And how the fuck had they gotten to this point anyway from discussing zones and being partners and... 

"What's this?" he asked, and he wasn't all that surprised to find his voice only a hoarse whisper. "Already marking your territory?" 

"Mhmm." Jim murmured, tilting his head to the side so their lips almost, almost brushed, just hovering barely above Sandburg's mouth until the young man was itching to move. It wouldn't take much. Just a bit, just enough to... He gasped as he watched Jim's nose twitch, watched him take in the scent before he opened his eyes to look at Blair again. "Making sure we both understand what we're getting into." And with that, he leaned down slowly and pried the empty bottle from Blair's hand, taking great care in being as close as he could without actually touching him. 

Blair watched him turn and go inside, and his mouth was as dry as dust all of a sudden. His heart was pounding in his chest while Jim put both their bottles aside and then sat down on the couch, long legs bent and spread, and shit, he looked so inviting, and he looked at Blair like he was actually waiting for him to get over there, too. Blair's cock jumped at the thought, and his breath came in short gasps all of a sudden as he watched Jim just sit there in that fucking tight blue tee, and those jeans that looked even tighter, Jim, who was staring at him, silently willing him into action. 

And although somewhere in his head he understood that this was Jim's way of accepting him, of sealing their partnership, all he could really think about was going over there and reaching out and ripping open those jeans because it seemed so fucking _easy_ to do just that, and that it had never been offered to him so casually before, and that he would be fucking _stupid_ if he passed this one up. 

His feet moved before he even knew it, and his jeans felt suddenly so tight that each step dragged the denim across his aching cock. He stopped in front of the couch, between Jim's spread thighs, staring down at the man who was sprawled out before him and watching him intently, and then suddenly he _was_ down on his knees, and his hands were moving up the hard-muscled legs, digging into the tight flesh. 

He kept his gaze fixed on the Sentinel's face, couldn't take his eyes from the piercing blue ones that watched him kneel between a man's thighs. Beneath his hands, he felt the strong body shift, felt a cock harden in response to what he did, and he moved his hands higher, his fingers grasping Jim's hips as his thumbs slowly rubbed along the length not really hidden beneath the tight fabric. It made Jim's breathing come faster, and Blair watched in fascination as his partner leaned back, totally concentrating on the feeling of strong hands caressing his cock. 

And still those eyes kept watching him carefully, as if Jim were asking him 'What now?' in this quiet, mocking voice he sometimes used. It made Blair frown as he stared at his own hands, stroking, petting, and then he found himself leaning forward and actually doing what his body screamed for. He groped for the fly of Ellison's jeans, ripping it open, and it felt so damn good, because it was buttoned, no zipper, just made for this kind of thing. Dragging the fabric aside as far as he could, he pushed his hand inside and grabbed the thick cock, giving a rough jerk. 

Jim gave a grunt somewhere above him, and Blair knew he should back up and regroup and maybe throw in a conscious thought or two, but there was no way he could stop to think, not now, and so he just leaned closer, crawling halfway into the Sentinel's lap. His eyes were drawn to the cock in his hand as he pumped it slowly, felt it grow heavier and harder with each stroke, and his tongue snaked out to trace a slow, slow line from the base of Jim's cock to the tip of it. 

He felt a tremor run through the other man, and so he did it again, licking slowly, swiping the tip. And when he heard Jim's breathing grow rugged, harsh pants drawn through his nose, he opened his mouth and closed his lips around the heavy cock and sucked it into his throat as deep as he could. 

"Jesus!" The voice was hoarse, a rough rasp, and Blair's eyes snapped open at the sound. Jim, sprawled wide on the couch, with his head thrown back, mouth agape, totally lost in the sensation. It made a shiver run through Blair, and he sucked harder, his hand tightening around the base. The hard body beneath him tensed, stiffened, back arching, hips jerking to get deeper into the wet heat. 

He settled for a steady rhythm, hard, fast, pulling every trick he knew, and shit, it felt good to be able to do that, just like that, just because he wanted, because they both wanted it, right here, right now. The glory of fucking men. 

Hands touched his cheek, guiding him, running through his hair and then down his neck and back, and he leaned closer, giving Jim better access. One hand stayed at the back of his neck, showing him how Jim wanted it, while the other began to explore, slip into his shirt, grope his chest... pinch his nipple, hard. 

He felt his nerve endings flare up and totally lost his rhythm for a moment, just groaned around the cock in his mouth and clawed at the strong legs beneath his hands until the urgent rush of pure lust turned into a slow, insistent throbbing in his groin. 

And then he heard Jim laugh, a soft, breathy sound that went straight to his dick. "Slut." the Sentinel whispered, and Blair raised his head to find blue eyes watching him, dark with heat. Hunger curled up in his belly, and he leaned forward to lick the tip of Jim's cock, again and again, like a cat lapping cream. 

The hand resting at his neck slid to his face, and he felt a thumb trace his cheekbone slowly, fingers drawing his chin up. He went with it easily and pushed himself up, stripping his shirt and straddling Jim's thighs in a flurry of movement, pressing his lips to the mouth that was offered to him. 

God, that first kiss was good. Slow, and hard, and better than ice cream. A lazy exploration that made his head spin, and he totally got into it, with lips, and teeth, and tongue, because dammit, nobody was to call him a slut without a reason. 

He drew back, licking, sucking Jim's tongue briefly, and then he stared at the man's flushed face, the half-closed eyes, felt hot palms against his cheek, rubbing his neck. And he smiled. 

"Tasting yourself with Sentinel senses?" 

Jim's eyes flew open at the soft-spoken words, and Blair gasped as he saw the heat suddenly burning in the blue depths. His hand was still pressed to the broad chest, and Blair's skin tingled as the heartbeat pounding against his palm grew fast and hard. 

Then Jim grabbed him. Just yanked him forward and kissed him again. And it wasn't as simple as a kiss anymore, it was hands gripping his face now, and lips crushing his, and a tongue thrusting into his mouth. It was getting fucked. 

He groaned into Jim's mouth, and it was more feeling than actual sound, a vibration that mingled with the heated puffs of breath they shared. His hands dug into Jim's shoulders, and he lost it then, felt his control slip away completely as he surrendered to the rough kiss. Long fingers slipped into his hair, loosening his ponytail, and an arm around his waist drew him closer, pressing his crotch tightly against Jim's. 

The hand in his hair pulled Blair's head back sharply, and he closed his eyes as his neck was stretched tight. He felt Jim's gaze heavily on him, and the sensation of being watched, being scrutinized and judged, made his breath hiss in his throat. His muscles turned into jelly all of a sudden, and somewhere deep down in his mind he wondered if being manhandled could become one of his kinks. Then all conscious thought fled as Jim was done with just staring at him and let his lips and teeth work on Blair's throat, biting, licking, sucking the soft skin there. 

And much later, when Blair groaned again, or maybe begged, or whimpered with need, he felt the strong fingers tug at his hair once more, forcing him to raise his head and open his eyes. He gasped as he saw the expression in Jim's eyes, the wild and raw desire burning in them, and his heartbeat cartwheeled as he realized that he would get more tonight than a quick grope on the couch. 

As if to answer his thoughts, Jim jerked his head to the side, a sharp gesture towards the bedroom. "Let's move this upstairs." 

"What?" Blair couldn't help but ask, his mouth curving into a sly smile as he rocked his hips against Jim's once more, evoking a gasp. "Don't tell me you're too old to have sex on the couch, man, 'cause you're not." His hand slid under the other man's shirt, stroking, teasing a nipple, until Jim gripped him tight to still his movements. 

"Nooo..." The sound was a low growl against Blair's throat, and he swallowed at the raw need he heard in it. Then Jim drew back to look at him, his thumb stroking Blair's neck slowly. "But when I fuck someone, I want it a little more comfortable." he murmured, giving him a grim smile that was far from teasing. 

And for a moment Blair wondered what the hell he had gotten himself into this time. 

* * *

A strong hand grabbed Blair's ass and dragged his body harder against the one beneath him, and the sudden sensation was so intense that for a moment all he could do was groan and go with it and dig his hands into the sheets. 

"Like that?" he heard Ellison's low chuckle against his cheek, lips brushing his ear and sending another shiver through him. 

"Yeah." Blair huffed, and then he turned his head to press his face into the wide, smooth chest, rub his cheek against skin that was flushed hot and sweaty. His hips jerked hard against Jim's, and he lost himself in the harsh slide of skin on skin, squeezed his eyes shut at the feeling of the thick cock moving against his. 

"Yeah..." he whispered again, and his mouth opened, tongue tasting salty skin, lips brushing a hard nipple. It made Jim tremble, and so he did it again, closing his mouth over the tight flesh and sucking it, using his teeth hard as the hand grabbing his neck held him tighter. He heard Ellison draw in a hissing breath, and Blair grinned, raising his head to look at the other man. 

"Like that...?" he echoed the question teasingly as he stroked Jim's cock roughly, his other hand coming up to pinch his nipple again. He didn't get an answer, just a harsh groan ripped from the Sentinel's throat as Jim threw his head back, drowning in the sensations, and Blair gasped at the perfect picture it made. Jim, with his neck arched, muscles tense, mouth open, tongue flicking over his lips... And before he even knew what he was doing, Blair pushed himself up and pressed his mouth to Jim's, taking it in the bruising kiss it seemed to beg for. 

Another moan, melting into his mouth, and then Jim's hands came up to grab his face. And even though there was nothing gentle about it, just Jim taking the lead, Blair suddenly felt his own control wither away, because what the big man did felt so sensual and so damn intense and so fucking much like a caress it was scary. 

The hands that had framed his face now slid down to his neck, along his sides, then flipped him on his back all of a sudden. Hard muscles flexed against his skin, and he gasped as he felt Jim work his way down his body, sucking, licking, rough and messy. Blair's eyes, fluttered shut at the sensations, snapped wide open all of a sudden when Jim leaned to the side, one hand still working his cock, the other reaching for the nightstand drawer. 

He propped himself up on his elbows to watch Jim, watch him pull out a tube of lube, and when he turned his head to look at him, Blair found himself nodding, just one quick jerk of the head, but still enough. And Jim still stared at him while he lubed up his fingers and pushed them inside him just like that, and Blair groaned, and _shit_ , what the fuck was he doing here anyway?! His cock jumped in Jim's strong grip, and he felt himself spread his legs wider as he saw Jim settle between them, watching Blair, meeting his eyes while he had two fingers up his ass. 

And then those fingers hit his prostate, and Blair fell back on the bed, almost screaming, gasping for air, hands clawing at the sheets. He pushed his body down hard, fucking himself on Jim's fingers furiously, trying to get more of that sensation, and he couldn't, because strong hands forced him on his stomach again, legs spread, fingers still working impossibly deep inside him. 

Jim's hand pushed his leg up to his side, arranging him the way he wanted him, his weight a massive presence that pressed Blair into the sheets and made him groan until his throat felt raw. More lube, and Blair turned his head, wanting to watch that, too, but all he could see in his odd position was the muscled column of a strong arm beside his head, supporting the Sentinel's weight... and that was the moment it hit him what this man really was, sudden full-force understanding that came at the wrong time and sent an almost painful jolt through his body. 

Soldier. Killer. A man who had been sent into the jungle to teach the natives to fight, to kill. And a man who had been damn good at this job if there had been no one coming back out of that jungle for eighteen whole months. 

Shitshitshit... he didn't even _know_ him, so what the hell was he doing in _bed_ with a man his mother would have warned him about?! 

And then he lost this train of thought as he finally caught up on Jim's actions and realized that his words hadn't been a mere figure of speech, that Blair _was_ going to get fucked tonight, and he suddenly didn't care about the danger anymore because somehow that was a kick, too, and so he just closed his eyes and arched his back as Jim pushed into him. His hand came up, clutching the Sentinel's arm as he felt Jim's mouth press to his spine briefly, whispering something against his skin he didn't understand, lips hot, almost burning him. 

And he was lost as Jim began to move, began to fuck him with hard, even thrusts, each one striking deeper than the one before, and each one making him lose his mind a little more. And Blair begged and cried out as he wanted, needed more, and after a while he couldn't even do that anymore, couldn't speak, just grunt, and groan, and gasp as his body was well and truly fucked. He lost all conscious thought along the way, and all he could do was hang on to the ride until he was reduced to pure instinct, want, lust, until he couldn't care about anything except the frantic need to come. 

Which he did, suddenly, unexpectedly, with Jim's hand on his dick, and Jim's cock still deep inside him, and Jim's breath hot against his neck, and it robbed him of conscious thought completely and left him shaking and wound up and needing, still needing, in the Sentinel's embrace. 

* * *

Blair Sandburg couldn't sleep. Well, except for a short exhaustion- induced, post-orgasmic nap, and that had been well over an hour ago. Since then, he had been wide awake and wrestling with insomnia. 

And he couldn't even toss and turn properly, because most of the time a heavy arm was draped over his stomach, and each stronger movement from his side instantly turned the slack cuddle into a possessive full-body contact. Which was a major part of his problem. 

Not the cuddling itself, mind you, but rather the implications it brought along with it - that he was still in bed with James Ellison, the cop, the Sentinel... and the future subject of Blair Sandburg's thesis paper. Talk about losing objectivity in a _big_ way. 

He shouldn't have done this, no sir. Shouldn't have jumped into Ellison's pants at the first possible opportunity, no matter how tempting the offer was. It wasn't the thing he had come for, and it would only bring along all kinds of complications, and it was definitely _not_ what he needed right now. Closing his eyes, Blair took a deep breath to calm down. Relaxation didn't come, though. Instead his mind got caught in the steel trap of what-the-hell-have-I- done thoughts, chasing themselves in his head. 

And what the hell _had_ he done, exactly? He'd fucked his research subject. Not content with just doing his job and watching Jim, maybe slowly making friends with him like a good anthropologist, he had jumped ahead a million steps and turned the man he was observing into the man who was coincidentally screwing his brains out. How was he supposed to write an academic paper about someone after   
_this_ , with not a chance in hell to keep his scientific distance?! 

Raising a hand, Blair pushed his unruly curls out of his face and rubbed his eyes. He should have thought with his head instead of his fucking dick for once. Let's face it, he'd blown it tonight, big time. 

He groaned. Great. Double entendres, too. He _had_ to get out of here before his mind came up with something worse. Shaking his head, he reached down to pry Jim's arm from around his waist carefully, then slid out of the big bed to collect his scattered clothes from the floor. 

He had slipped his jeans back on and was about to pick up his sneakers when Jim opened his eyes and looked at him. 

"Huh." he said, and Blair froze, shoes in hand, the perfect picture of caught in the act. Jim just turned his head to sneak a quick glance at the clock though, then stared back at Blair, blinking slowly and not quite awake yet. "You're still here." 

His voice, rough from sleep, sounded genuinely surprised, and Blair frowned at that, puzzlement driving away the embarrassing feeling of being caught while running. "Shouldn't I?" 

"You didn't seem the type who sticks around long afterwards." Jim answered with a shrug, then broke into a wide yawn. Rubbing his eyes sleepily, he gave another glance at the clock. "Make sure the door's locked when you go, 'kay?" With those words he turned his back on Sandburg and snuggled back into the covers, drawing them up to his chin. 

Jim seemed to go back into sleep mode almost instantly, but the casual comment echoed in Blair's mind, and he couldn't shake the weird feeling it brought. 

Had he just been accused of being a fuck-and-run guy, dammit?! Blair gritted his teeth as he stared down at the sneakers he still clutched in his hand, realizing that he had been indeed. And guilty as charged, obviously. 

Damn Jim for saying that, saying it _like_ that. Blackmail of the worst kind - unintentional, but still a challenge, still striking where it hurt. Closing his eyes, Blair took a deep breath. And double damn himself for listening. 

He turned, a grim smile twisting his mouth as he padded down the stairs to the living room, about to do what he wasn't sure he really wanted to do. Not sure at all. 

* * *

Maybe one of the first things Blair Sandburg would put down in his thesis paper would be that the smell of frying eggs and bacon was guaranteed to rouse a sleeping Sentinel in mere seconds. 

"Hi," he grinned when Ellison staggered down the stairs groggily and stared at the young man working away in his kitchen with narrowed, slightly red-rimmed eyes. A-ha. Not a graceful waker. "I made breakfast." 

"So I see." A long yawn followed, and Blair watched Jim raise a hand to scratch his neck. He smiled at the picture it made. For such short hair, Ellison's was amazingly mussed up, standing out in at least a dozen different directions. "Correct me if I'm wrong, chief, but I thought I saw you leave at some ungodly hour." 

"Yeah, well." Blair shrugged while he continued turning the eggs in the pan. "Canceled my early appointment, so we'll have some time to work out the technical details of this partnership. How we're going to sell it to your boss, for instance." he added quickly before his comment could hit the implications of a personal level. 

"By _not_ calling you my partner, for instance." came the instant reply, and Blair looked up at that, raising an eyebrow questioningly. 

"I thought I was." 

"You are. But he doesn't need to know that, right?" 

"Huh. Think he would get the wrong impression?" Blair couldn't help but smirk at the long-suffering sigh the cop let out as he rubbed his tired eyes. "I'm kidding here, Jim. Familiar concept?" 

"Not this early in the morning, no." 

"Then go, take a shower. Get your circulation up and running." Blair ordered, jerking his thumb into the corresponding direction. "Breakfast will be ready in a minute." 

Jim watched him for a long moment, eyebrows drawing together in a thoughtful frown, but just when Blair began to squirm at being watched like this, the cop nodded and turned, making his way to the bathroom and the sacred ritual of a long, hot shower. 

* * *

"And you really think Banks will buy this?" Blair asked, shaking his head at the idea for the umpteenth time. 

"No, not really." Jim locked the door behind them, then tapped his hand against his companion's back to stir him into motion. "But it's the best one we came up with, right?" 

"Which doesn't speak well for our imagination." 

"Yeah." Jim grinned, giving a slight shrug while the elevator doors closed. 

And as Blair turned his head and watched him, his thoughts began to drift for just a moment, and he remembered what had happened between them such a short time ago, _in_ such a short time, wondered if someone else would see it, too... wondered if it was still there, anyway, and if it was, what would they do about that? "Jim," he murmured, because it had to be asked, and he lowered his gaze even as he opened his mouth, staring at his hands again. "About last night..." 

"Chief..." The nickname he was already getting used to flowed from Jim's lips easily, interrupting Blair before he could voice any of the speculations that ran through his head. It made Sandburg look up to meet that sky blue gaze, and when he did, he found only slight amusement. "Do you see me dig out a ring?" 

Blair took a slow breath. "Nooo..." he finally acknowledged carefully. 

It made the Sentinel's eyes sparkle with silent laughter, and for a moment he turned that smile on Blair again, that radiant smile he had given him the night before. The smile he seemed to reserve for either friends or special occasions. "Exactly." Jim said quietly, still smiling, and then his hands came up to pat Blair's cheeks, just a quick, fleeting gesture before the elevator stopped and released them to the outside world. 

And Blair watched Jim go, staring at the broad back, lost in thought as he slowly raised a hand to run it across his cheek. 

So. It was still there, whatever 'it' was, whatever had been there last night. But it was different now. Still potent, but not quite as dangerous - a mere spark compared to the roaring wildfire, but ready to be roused any time. More and less intense in the same instant... and he'll be damned if he knew what that was supposed to mean. Shaking his head, Blair followed his new partner to his truck. 

It felt weird, though. Despite Jim's easy handling of the situation, it still was a wild ride to see a possible love interest turn possible friend before his very eyes. It was not the way it usually happened, and it had never happened to _Blair_ before, so it left him stunned, in his own way. 

But since he had always been quick to adapt, he was already brimming with enthusiasm as he climbed into the truck beside Jim. He sneaked a glance to the side, watching the intense concentration on the other man's face as he carefully maneuvered through Cascade's early morning traffic. 

James Ellison. Cop. Sentinel. Friend. 

Blair tried the word out in his mind a few times, and it worked better than he would have thought. 

Hell, he could use a friend. Could use it far better than any short and messy love affair, actually - and Blair _was_ honest enough with himself to admit that they always seemed to remain short flings for him, no matter what he did. It just never worked out the way he intended it to go. 

Sooo... friend it was. With the possibility of stirring up the embers every now and then. 

Blair tried to imagine Ellison's face if he went for the old "me, Sandburg, you, friend" routine now, and this time he couldn't help the grin that split his face. His good mood held all the way to the precinct, and even then he felt hyped because his mind was flowing over with the possibilities this new friendship thing offered. 

Maybe Blair Sandburg would have felt a little different if he had realized that with the path taken, he had chosen the far more effective way to lose his objectivity. 

  * the start - 



Additional additional: 

Try watching the pilot episode again and take a good look at the boys' relationship here - pretty distanced, compared to the rest of the show: Though later most of the more intimate touches are initiated by Jim, Blair does all the touching in 'Switchman'. (To breach Jim's barrier's, get through to him?) Blair calls Jim 'Ellison', while Jim doesn't use his name one single time (neither 'Blair' nor 'Sandburg'), just various nicknames. Only in the last scene, when he is established as his partner, he gets a 'Sandburg'. (There's lots of other stuff, if you go looking for it.) 

Then we have the opening sequence of 'Siege', and WHAM! - there we suddenly have the boys how we know them, fooling around, sharing each other's space. The relationship how it will be during the next three years. 

Gets ya thinking, doesn't it...? ;) 

* * *

End Rules of Engagement. 

 


End file.
